


some noncon shimadacest

by Sinderlin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashing, Drugs, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Suspension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-07 02:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14070564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinderlin/pseuds/Sinderlin
Summary: shoutout to @trueblackhand for the prompt





	1. Chapter 1

 

Midway through his evening ritual of studying the deeds and accounts he would be expected to care for once he took over the clan, Hanzo heard a knock at his door. Likely a house-servant bringing him his tea. Without lifting his eyes from the tablet in his hand, he called for them to enter.

“Your tea, master,” a voice behind him proclaimed, a steaming cup tapping softly onto his desk. The masculine voice and the loudly-colored jacket-sleeve in the corner of his vision certainly didn’t belong to any of the servants he knew, however.

“Genji...” Hanzo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I am...studying right now. Surely you could not have hit your credit limit already? If you want more money for your  _ parties _ , you will have to wait until the first of next month like the rest of us.” Even without looking, he could tell Genji had just crossed his arms and begun pouting like a petulant child.

“That’s not it! I wanted to check in on you since you keep shutting yourself up in your room. I was getting worried about you,” Genji huffed, “Push me away all you want, but at least get some fresh air now and then.” 

“Yes, of course,” Hanzo grunted, grabbing the cup and taking a long sip of the green tea to keep his blood pressure from rising any further, “But what do you  _ want _ ?” The bed creaked with his brother’s weight, sheets whispering as they bunched with the dip.

“Don’t be like that. I just wanted to spend some time with you like we used to,” Genji complained, “I wanted to see if we could maybe, I dunno, bridge this gap. Fix whatever happened to us. We used to be so close...” His voice cracked and trailed off, half-ashamed to let the sentiment slip but too honest and bold to keep his mouth shut.

“You could start by...improving your conduct. Do not...continue making a fool of us-”

“Us? You mean the clan? The elders?,” Genji interrupted, “I don’t give a shit about them. I’m talking about  _ you  _ and  _ me _ . I guess if you’re that brainwashed, though, there’s no real point trying to patch things up between us, then. You’re just a mouthpiece now, huh, no will of your own.”

“Shut. Your. Mouth,” Hanzo hissed, slapping the tablet down on his desk and knocking his chair over as he shot up-and abruptly down, vision wobbling. Low blood pressure? Confusion warred with anger as he focused on his brother’s face: Serene, softly smiling, but with eyes dead and glassy as a fish.

\---

Small pieces of reality filtered into Hanzo’s undreaming sleep, like the soft hum of an electric engine, the bumps and jumps of uneven road, even a happy little tune sung in a familiar voice. The smell of warm, fresh summer grass, the cool night air, and distant lowing of cows brought back vague memories of playing in the summer house with his little brother. Sweet, innocent, looked to him for everything. Mischievous even then.

Cold, hard dirt pressed against his cheek, bare chest, thighs--since when was he naked? Pressure tingled up his arms, around his shoulders, secure and firm. Warm hands cupped the swell of his chest, fingertips digging deep into the muscle, luxurious, taking time to rub and pull at his nipples until they were hard and sensitive even through the haze, then retreated and left his overheated hypersensitive skin resting directly on the chilly ground again. Vaguely, he wished the warmth would come back.

Distantly, someone cried. Wood creaked. No, rope, the sound was higher and sharper. No, both. Rough wood under his chest and stomach, the edge biting into his bare hips, smooth rope tightly cradling his arms. Genji stared down at him with red-rimmed eyes and a ruddy nose, the same face he’d had when he skinned his knee at age six and ran to his big brother for comfort. The same expression of wanting to say something, but wishing Hanzo would read his mind instead.

Pain wracked his body as his arms were wrenched up, nearly pulled from their sockets if it weren’t for the loops over the front of his shoulders. Jolted from the dreamlike state, nausea gurgled in his gut as his brain struggled to turn its engine over. The pressure eased when he stood with his back only slightly bowed, increasing if he tried to lay back down onto the creaky old workbench or take more than a single step in any direction.

“What is,” Hanzo rasped, wheezed, gagged, and tried again, “What is this.” Spit rolled past his lips and pattered onto the packed dirt at his feet. Something sour bubbled in his throat. Only the narrow slice of the world directly in front of him existed for the moment, sleep drawing him back in until the slump of his body brought him back with another jolt of pain. It felt like only his head existed, floating in space, amorphous, disembodied.

Someone was talking, but he couldn’t parse it. Gibberish, but it sounded sad. And angry. Tongue swollen, spit-glands aching, saliva continued to dribble out of his open mouth as he squinted at what he assumed was a person. Time dilated as recognition dawned on him, his younger brother walking toward him in slow motion after tying the shiny red rope around the old stable pole. 

“What is...why,” Hanzo tried again, holding down the roiling contents of his stomach, focusing on the peach lips in the hope of seeing the words he couldn’t understand. Gooseflesh rose in the wake of hands he could barely feel--Nails raked over numb skin, leaving red lines down his chest. Delayed, pain cuts through the fog, seeping through his nerves.

Genji’s monologue, spoken softly and sweetly through the rasp of hours of crying, pieces itself together as his gears begin to turn once again. His little brother plans to “retrain” him, isolate him from the clan to break their hold on him and undo their “mindwashing”. He wants to close the distance between them and reclaim their old happiness, no matter the cost. Even if it’s twisted. Even if it’s wrong. This is what they’ve come to.

His once-sweet little brother shoved his tongue in his mouth and Hanzo didn’t have the presence of mind to bite. All he did was wrinkle his nose and crane his head back uncomfortably, speechless. One of his little brother’s hands carded through his hair and tugged him back, the other cupping his ass so firmly he could feel it almost immediately, even through the lingering haze.  If only he could run away, fight, scream,  _ anything _ -

“I’m sorry, I-,” Genji huffed into his ear, sliding his fingers over the silky skin of his hole, “I need to do this. I need you to know how serious I am.” The words process much faster than before, but not fast enough to prepare him for the hot, dry breach of Genji’s fingers testing the give of his rim. Before the tears can even spring to Hanzo’s eyes at the shock of it, Genji pulled his fingers back out and breathed wetly into his ear. “Oh. You’ve never…? Or, how long has it been? No, never mind. I’ll just…” Genji tipped his older brother’s chin up to force him to meet his eyes, ”Imagine you saved yourself for me.”

Terror washed over Hanzo in an icy wave. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t possibly. But the twinkle in Genji’s eye and the packet of lube held up in front of his face says otherwise.

“No,” Hanzo wheezed, “Nonono, Genji, don’t-You  _ can’t _ !” The rope is short and tight enough that he can’t back away more than two feet before it bites into his skin and forces him to either get up onto his toes or move back to the center of the rope’s radius.

“You can’t push me away any more, and you can’t run, either,” Genji reminded him, taking his time squeezing the contents of the packets onto his fingers,  “But feel free to scream and struggle all you want. Get it out of your system now so we can get started fixing you, okay?” The worst part of it was the bittersweet smile--Okay, no, it was the vice grip on Hanzo’s hip, spinning him around and shoving between his shoulder-blades so the rope nearly yanked his arms out of their sockets.

“Genji!” Hanzo snapped warningly, dancing further away on his tiptoes until the sucking sensation of the ligaments holding his shoulder  _ pops _ . The single extra inch of leeway almost feels like a victory, until the pain hits. Too well-trained to scream, he bit his cheek and glared at the packed-dirt floor. Any move he made would play on his already-overstretched nerves, agony keeping him stone-still. If it wasn’t put back in place as soon as possible, there could be permanent damage.

Resigned to his fate, Hanzo relaxed back onto his heels, taking a step back into the rope’s range. There was no way to escape this, not now. He would have to endure and look for another chance. Breathing in rough snorts, he swallowed his pride and made just one request: “I will behave. Put my shoulder back in.”

Silent as the grave, Genji rested two fingertips on his clenched hole, edging in. His chin hooked over Hanzo’s clavicle, his free hand tightly wrapping around his bicep. No chance he’d relocate it the medically-approved way, it seemed. What he didn’t expect was for Genji to be as sadistic as to slam his fingers home while forcefully pushing the dislocated bone back into its socket. One or two nerves were scraped raw on the way, muscles screaming at the sudden mixed signals, and his rear hadn’t felt so raw since he last ate mapo tofu. 

In spite of it all, only one or two stray tears escaped his eyes as he stared fixedly at the ground. Hardly even grunted when Genji scissored his fingers inside him, stretching him just enough to force a third in. His breath barely hitched at the hot pain and loud, wet noise of his fingers being pulled free. His head dropped lower, eyes drifting to his own toes, covered in dirt but white with tension, as Genji  _ entered  _ him.

Ears ringing, Hanzo willed himself out of his body to endure the torture he couldn’t escape from. It was an old trick to get through the harsh traditional training meant to make him into an unshakeable oyabun in the future, but it seemed it would come in handy much sooner than that. Each of his brother’s thrusts forced a huff of air from his lungs, stabbing up into his guts in a way he had never prepared for. The bizarre, shocking pain echoed in his shoulder, but he managed to float off in his head to some far away place with bamboo and soft rain--Until Genji spoke.

“You’re even better than I imagined,” Genji gasped in his ear, “Anija, did you…? Ahh...I love you, I love you so much!” His cock trembled against his brother’s walls, spitting hot precum as he rocked in and out. Hanzo could feel the jump of his brother’s balls against his ass each time he bottomed out. Bile rose in his throat.

Genji continued to pant and moan and mutter skin-crawling things into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist. Tears sprang to Hanzo’s eyes as warmth tingled in his loins, one of his brother’s hands skirting his hip to cup his  _ mostly soft _ package. Shame and disgust roiled in his gut as his dick readily perked up under warm, experienced fingers. Bitter acid hit his tongue when his traitorous cock actually  _ throbbed _ .

“Stop,” Hanzo pleaded one last time, voice thick with despair. Genji only allowed him the courtesy of shutting up--by biting into the meat of his shoulder. Mercifully, he’s done a few rough thrusts later, spilling hot slime against his guts. He doesn’t pull away until Hanzo has cum, too, though, squeezing and stroking until he gives him what he wants. His stomach churns violently again and his back bows with the need to vomit.

At last, Genji is done with him. Pain and shame war for his attention. The sound of a pill being pushed through the foil package brings the faintest sense of relief. He’ll be allowed the release of dreamless sleep. Genji doesn’t even have to tell him to open up for the pill or to swallow. All they have to do is wait for the little white pill to take him away for a few more hours. Maybe Hanzo will get lucky and be returned back home during his sleep, and Genji will exile himself for his transgression. Maybe he’ll be killed. Maybe it’ll end with a murder-suicide. He doesn’t dare to ask.

When Hanzo’s eyes finally slipped closed and he began to droop dangerously from the ropes, Genji undid the knot from the stable post and drew it back down from the ceiling beam he’d looped it over, carefully coiling it as he went. He still had plenty more uses for it, after all. After untying Hanzo and cleaning him off with a packet of baby wipes, he scooped his brother up and carried him into one of the stalls, setting him down on the old mattress he’d grabbed from the local secondhand store. It might have been gross, but it was the best he could do.

With the restraints, however, he couldn’t skimp. Leather-padded metal carefully fitted to Hanzo’s ankle took quite a while to procure, but with how perfectly they fit he wasn’t going to complain. He’d attached the other end of the thick, four foot long chain to the back wall, sealing the metal around the sturdiest beam in the wall and puttying the cracks to keep the breeze from chilling his brother. It would definitely take some time to fix his poor brother, so he had to make sure he’d be safe and sound. And incapable of escaping.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a convo with terato-imagines on tumblr. They are also writing the third and final installment to this dismal scenario.

The people who eventually picked up the trail of the disappeared Shimada brothers had no relation to the clan that had spent the better part of a year combing the country for them. The dragons could have been both an asset and an excellent research material, so Talon approached Genji with the offer of their services in exchange for his. Mind control, innovative tracking technology, and the chance to openly be with his brother in exchange for his agreement to becoming their mercenary and test subject. Looking back over his shoulder at his dead-eyed older brother waiting in the hall, it had been a done deal.

 

Hanzo had been “fixed” as advanced payment for his services, though the scars of the year’s abuse stood as a testament to the rudimentary techniques Genji tried before Talon could offer their expertise. The tearful reunion after the lengthy reprogramming session left a yawning maw of discontent in a certain scientist’s gut. It wasn’t that she disagreed with it, it was that it wasn’t quite good enough. There was still a cold sense of distance between the brothers, an incompleteness in the way Hanzo’s eyes unfocused when he had to look at his younger brother.

 

Even when she happens to be passing by their shared room and hears the creaking of their bedsprings, it’s almost always only Genji who is loud enough to be heard beyond the door. Still, he seemed happy enough playing pretend. That is, until Hanzo began showing up bruised and bleeding before missions even began. Given Reaper and Widowmaker’s predilection for silence and Sombra’s questionable ties, it was clear who would have to speak with Genji.

 

-Which is how she finds herself looking down the bridge of her nose at the cowering form of the younger brother, head in his hands, spilling his guts after a few carefully picked, pointed questions. Pity, she’d thought him more guarded than that.

 

“I  _ just  _ wanted him to love me,” Genji babbled, and she noted the distinctive use of the modifier  _ just _ , “I never meant for it all to turn out like  _ this _ ! He-The clan turned him against me. They brainwashed him, and then he wouldn’t even look at me as a  _ brother _ , and I had to  _ fix  _ him. I know I fucked up the first time when I tried to do it on my own, I get that, but  _ you  _ said you would  _ help me _ !” White-knuckled, hair crunched between his fingers, a few strands tearing loose.

 

“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what the issue is,” Moira states plainly, nails clicking on the table to tear his glare from the tiled floor, “Far be it from me to dissuade you from venting your frustrations, whatever they may be about, on him, but we are always looking for ways to improve our products.”

 

It takes a moment for him to process the detached parody of comfort before he speaks again, slow and strained: “When I did it  _ my  _ way,” he said, “he’d still  _ respond _ . Sure, he’d try to fight back, but-If I got him high enough, he’d even make the first move. Even hitting him doesn’t do anything now. This isn’t...how I imagined it.” His red-rimmed eyes hold Moira’s gaze with a cross between rage and misery. “You promised to fix him.”

 

Moira leans back and crosses her arms across her chest, considering her options. “So you want him to be proactive in your...relationship? I’ll see what I can do.”

 

\---

 

The second attempt has succeeded beyond even her own expectations. On a flight to the latest mission’s outpost, she spots Hanzo leaning over to whisper into his brother’s ear, one hand sliding into his lap while Genji turns a lovely shade of red. His performance has been through the roof lately, however, and Genji has been enduring even the most strenuous tests without complaint, so she can’t groan too much.

 

She can even deal with them nearly dry-humping all over the outpost, so long as they’re ready when the time comes to move out. In fact, it becomes a perverse sort of entertainment to ‘accidentally’ walk in on them ‘to make sure they are always ready on a mission’. For the most part, they seem to have become inseparable, but once in a while she catches Hanzo’s eyes in passing and sees that they remain unfocused. Distant.

 

\---

 

As expected, the relative peace within their chaotic ranks does not last. Genji comes again, shaking like a junkie in withdrawal, this time to her personal quarters. Embarrassed to be opening up to her again, he takes a long moment to work up the nerve to speak.

 

“With our line of work, either of us could die at any time, so…” he mumbles, “I want- _ need _ -you to put some of us in each other.” When she doesn’t deign to give such a bald-faced lie a response, he flashes briefly with rage at being questioned, childish and entitled. “Just do it. I’ll kill the both of us if you don’t. Swap something important, so he can never, ever, ever, ever,  _ eeeever  _ be rid of me.”

 

Distasteful as it is to be ordered around by an unstable human experiment, he’s still useful research material. If she uses them as test subjects for her new microsurgeons, maybe she can even kill two birds with one stone…

 

\---

 

Even with his elder brother’s liver and kidneys cradled carefully between his guts and muscles, Genji doesn’t seem to be at ease. Even after spending every second of the (admittedly shortened) recovery period glued to Hanzo’s side, Genji still trembles and glances about with the eyes of a feral dog. Even the grunts who come to change his IVs get snapped at now and again, so deep is his paranoia.

 

Documenting his breakdown might be worth something, she decides, and takes a seat at the end of their bed with a touchpad balanced on her knee. Given what she already knows of their family history and their current relationship, she can guess what she’s going to hear, but a complete psychological profile requires more than just suppositions. She didn’t expect a few simple questions to open the floodgates.

 

“We were close as children, but he was groomed to be the heir and I was tossed to the wayside. They tore us apart and brainwashed him, and by the time I realized it was all their fault it was too late. He rebuffed all my attempts to bridge the gap, so I had to do it by force. I wanted him to dote on me like he did when we were kids, but being being yelled at and treated like trash for years kind of twisted that,” Genji babbled, combing his fingers through the curtain of Hanzo’s hair, “Of course...I had always had a crush on him. Anyhow, I did my best to fix what went wrong between us. We had sex every day, shared every meal, and even slept beside each other at the end. Sometimes I had to use corporal punishment or put him in time out, but it felt like I was getting through to him.” As if on cue, Hanzo tilts his head up and plants a kiss on Genji’s pale cheek.

 

Lips drawn into a tight, flat smile, Moira taps out notes. Hanzo barely spoke before, but now what little he has to say are just vapid compliments directed at his rapidly mentally deteriorating baby brother. Seems as though he’s trying to placate his ever-growing madness with vague reassurances and sexual favors, she jots down. Genji Shimada has become dangerously delusional, violent, and narcissistic, and will likely become a liability in the near future. Perhaps they could at least make use of his husk when he finally recognizes he had broken ages ago.

 

\---

 

Hanzo’s kills gradually ramp up in visibility and gratuity, dragons manifesting a silent rage he can’t seem to comprehend. At first he seems surprised by it, looking to an ever-slowing Genji for guidance and support in his forcibly dependent state. Each kill becomes more visceral, more real, an outlet he’s allowed, until he’s tearing in with hands and teeth and arrows clenched like daggers. 

 

Moira notes each mission he comes back from soaked in blood with interest, picking up little fissures in the mask. Another trip to the reconditioning room would have him right as rain, but it’s more interesting to see where and how the brainwashing peels away; besides that Genji hasn’t asked. Tiny, unassuming rebellions of supposedly normal actions done slightly wrong or with an underlying accusation bring focus and long-missing  _ emotion  _ to Hanzo’s eyes and set Genji on edge. Needling him even though he knows it will get him yelled at or beaten.

 

She only wishes she could have gotten a photo of the bloody-toothed smile Hanzo bared after Genji showered him in another bout of petulant rage.

 

\---

 

It comes to a head one mission when an arrow grazes too closely to Genji, sprouting from the throat of an enemy he had well under control. A test. Genji whips around, face a mask of rage, and immediately abandons the fight to scale the building Hanzo has set up on. Moira watches them between bursts of bullets, going from tusseling on the rooftop to brawling in the alley in the midst of a firefight. The last dregs the reprogramming remaining in Hanzo give Genji enough of an edge to cold-clock him and drag him the fifty feet through live fire, only to drop Hanzo off the cliff at the town’s edge and into the rocky water hundreds of feet below and follow suit without a word.

 

Maybe a feeble attempt to make their bodies useless to Talon, Moira contemplated.

 

\---

  
Soldier: 76’s comms beeped with an urgent message, an unknown sender passing along coordinates and a short message:   
  
“The Shimada brothers may make decent recruits. Please provide aid immediately.”


End file.
